


In Cold Blood

by Caelys



Series: Folk Horror AU [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Gen, Horror, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Psychological Horror, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelys/pseuds/Caelys
Summary: Midday is a dangerous time to be left alone.
Series: Folk Horror AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937206
Kudos: 1





	In Cold Blood

The heat was almost unbearable. Sweat was coming down his forehead and falling straight into his eyes. Blurring his vision. Everything around him was the same. All in different shades of yellow and brown. The field. The sun. The dirt below his feet. Everything.

The sun was shining ruthlessly. Not a single cloud sitting in between in and the miserable people who were working in the field. This was the fifth rainless week for the summer. For a third year in a row the heat waves were getting longer and stronger. A few years ago it was normal to rain at least every few weeks, now people were lucky if it rained two times through the whole summer.

And in the midst of the deadly heat people were still on the open field. Yielding the crops. Stopping only at midday to return home just for a few hours of rest. Hoping they would escape the sun at least for a little while. And in just 15 minutes the field stood empty. Almost. One lonely boy was still there. Despite the heath and the sun.

Actually he wasn’t really a boy, but at the same time he wasn’t man yet. Henry was at that strange point in his life where he was almost an adult, but at the same time still a kid.

He decided to stay there just for a little longer. Henry had almost completed harvesting the wheat for the day. Just a little longer and he could go home and enjoy his deserved rest.

And so he stayed. Bent over the dry, cracked ground. With every movement of his legs dust was getting straight in his eyes. He was exhausted. He was up since 4 in the morning. Harvest season was long and unforgiving. Henry was clutching the sickle in his right hand. Carefully cutting the wheat as to not cut his own hand.

Somewhere from behind he heard howling. Coming far far away from him. Was it wolves or dogs, he wondered. But whatever they were, they didn’t concern him. Soon after the noises started, they suddenly stopped.

All fell quiet again. But as Henry was continuing the harvest, a whimpering cut the silence. Those dogs were fighting. But there was something strange about that fight. The sounds weren’t coming from behind. They were coming from somewhere on the side. But Henry wasn’t sure where.

In an open field it was easy to lose track of space. Everything is the same all around. And when you’re alone in a field it’s like being lost in the middle of an ocean. No one can hear you scream.

And suddenly he heard those dogs again. This time closer. They were no longer fighting. But screaming. Those screams were almost human. So painful and dreadful. Screams full of misery.

And as those bone chilling screams were getting louder and louder, Henry dropped the sickle. And as it hit the dry ground Henry realized that had gotten rid of the only thing that could have helped him against whatever ungodly creature was standing in his way.

His ears were ringing. The cries had stopped a while ago, but he was still hearing them. From all around. Closer, then further away. Then right behind him. He was sure that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But Henry was weary. He had grown in the countryside and so he knew what sounds dogs and wolves made. And those agonizing cries weren’t normal. He was turning around and looking. He was searching for anything to give him a sign if he was unsafe, but there was nothing. Just him.

But as he squatted to take his sickle back in hand, he saw something in the corner of his eye. A white silhouette far behind him.

_Just another person, who stayed behind. Just like me._

Or so he thought. As he was slowly standing up again he decided to turn and say hello. After all the village was small - everyone knew everyone. It wasn’t unusual for people to appear in strange places. But as he turned the figure was no longer there.

The field behind him was empty. The crops barely moving despise the lack of wind. Henry clutched the sickle tighter. He had an awful feeling in his chest. Heavy, chocking feeling.

He decided that it was time to come home. Harvest was gonna wait. 

But as he made the first step his vision went dark. His head felt lighter. And just as that as he blinked again, something appeared again. The white figure. This time he saw her clearly.

Despite the sweat in his eyes and the dark spots in his vision he was sure. It was her. The tall figure, towering way above him. Over 6 ft tall.The old white clothes covering her entire body and head.

He felt his body spinning. Losing conscience. And as he battled against his own body, Henry opened his eyes one last time.

A shiny sickle in her hand. Covered in crimson blood.

_“Don’t be afraid”_

* * *

Michael slowly opened his eyes. The nightmare was over. At least for tonight. It had been 5 fucking years and that memory was still haunting him. Almost every night he was waking up in cold sweat. And every night he was reliving that July day. Every night he was waking up at the same moment in which 5 years ago he fell asleep.

On that cursed day his family found him at dawn. Unconscious. 3 kilometers away from the field he was last seen in. His body dragged the whole way.

He never told anyone the story about the wolves and the woman in white. As if anyone would believe him. But he remembered everything. His own mind didn’t let him forget. Even though he had convinced himself that none of that had ever happened. He was still reliving the horror in his dreams.

Each night he was waking up and longing for human touch. He needed to know he was not alone. He needed to feel someone else’s warm skin against his. And so he reached for the woman sleeping next to him.

As he stood there and caressed her cheek, his blood went cold. Under the pale moon light coming from the opened curtains a piece of metal was shining softly.

A sickle covered in crimson blood.

**Author's Note:**

> I see you have gotten to the end, and I hope you have enjoyed the story. And as I promised here is the explanation of that happened and what inspired me. Again the woman in white is inspired by a spirit known in slavic folklore as ‘Poludnica’ (actually she is the half sister of the spirit from the ‘Ethereal Was The Night’ one shot). She is actually the folklore explanation of heat strokes and that’s why she appears in fields just on the hottest days of summer. Again I did take creative liberties with the character.


End file.
